The White Rainbow
by speccyboy
Summary: An Irish assassin with amnesia, her sister, and a hologram of her deceased Italian friend reflect on their past while looking to the future. Nina/Anna/OC, this may evolve into a full story. Read and review, please. :)
1. Chapter 1

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my OC**

**_Mishima Zaibatsu Hotel, Tokyo, Japan – 24 September 2012_**

I sat in my expensive-looking suite as I watched the Moon shine in the Sky, finding it difficult to drift off to catch some zeds. _What do you need sleep for, Sandro Peseta? You're a hologram – you're dead._ I thought to myself irritably. _It's supposed to be your birthday in two days._ My mind added. _Do the dead celebrate their birthdays? It would have been my 48th if I were still alive._ I chuckled at the ironic thought of thinking like a living person when I had died a long time ago. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw a gold-coloured Ace of Spades on my forehead, signifying my hologram status, a hard-light projection, an electronic ghost confined to a state of digital consciousness in a virtual afterlife. Sniffling silent tears, I sat before two keyboards – one black, one silver – my synthesisers from my band days… and my final show with my friends and bandmates, our last gig as a group together. I switched them on and began to improvise, eventually going into a full piano melody with one hand and a chorus effect with the other. As I played the instrumental composition with unerring accuracy, I felt memories begin to creep into my mind – my birth way back in 1964, my conservative upbringing, my discovery that I was autistic, but no single memory stood out as much as the others as THAT one… _25 October 1989 – the day I died. I was 25 years old._ Eventually, I reached the conclusion of my instrumental _sonata_ and switched off the keyboards. A loud knock was heard over the door. "Come inside." I said softly. The door swung open, revealing a tall, athletic-looking woman with golden blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. I felt my holographic lips curl into a smile as the woman – the Irish assassin-cum-bodyguard, Nina Williams – entered, clothed in a tight-fitting black Lycra catsuit with long sleeves and a turtleneck with zip-back. _Doesn't she wear ANYTHING other than that sci-fi stuff?_ I thought, but chose to say nothing of it.

"Still can't sleep, Sandro?" She asked in a slightly flat tone of voice. I nodded wordlessly before replying in Italian. "You were thinking about that day again, weren't you?" Locking my eyes with hers, I nodded assertively.

"I died… trying to rescue you, Nina. You were – and will always be – my friend." I wiped away a tear or two from my face as I sighed, my voice clearly breaking and shaking from the memory of what I thought I had overcome. Looking at the older Williams sister before me, her face softened slightly as she pulled me into a soft hug for a moment before letting go.

"You could have just walked away and had a happy life, Sandro… you could have done so much more, and you had to throw it all away for a cold-hearted killer like me." She said, her voice combining sadness and disappointment. I sighed and nodded.

"The heart often rules the mind." I justified weakly, but honestly. She sighed in disbelief as she turned to leave, but I stopped her for a moment, just to see her before she went to sleep. "On second thought, it doesn't matter – what difference will it make? You've lost the best part of your memory, and I've lost my life." Nina looked shocked at my declaration before straightening her face and leaving, closing the door behind her as she left. _Shit, shit, shit! You stupid bastard, Sandro!_ I cursed mentally as I buried my face in my hands. I could hear Nina crying quietly to herself as her footsteps receded into eventual silence. Without another word, I reached into my stomach and switched off my hologram projection, ready to reactivate itself the next day. The fire within me soared like a massive nuclear explosion as I felt a brief but sharp sensation of pain – and then there was nothing.

**Author's Note: Read and review, please - sorry about the short first chapter, but there is more to come. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 2**

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Arena, Tokyo, Japan – 23 October 1989**_

I found myself on the stage – podium – of a very familiar-looking indoor arena, about the size of the _Hallenstadion_ in Zurich, Switzerland. Standing before me were my beloved synthesisers, and looking to either side of me, I was able to see two other individuals – a fair-haired drummer with a goatee beard and a rather energetic guitarist-vocalist with dark hair. _You're back in the past… Hans and Yakov – your old friends and bandmates._ I thought to myself as the reality eventually settled in. I had no idea at the time that this particular gig would be the end of our live career, and it was largely my fault. As our signature show-stopping medley came to a close, we were met with raucous cheering (and some drunken whooping, mainly thanks to two individuals named Paul Phoenix and Marshall Law, who took the liberty of getting to the venue early after their disqualifications) as the three of us left the stage… for the last time. _Knebworth Park, eat your heart out._ I thought to myself, high as a kite at the time. After a VERY special encore, the show ended and we were on our way to an after party – well, two of us were. Can you guess who the odd one out was? That is right. It was I! I spent about 10 minutes there before leaving, unable to take the social partying a second longer as I headed for the Zaibatsu bar, downing wine and vodka as I sighed, muttering to myself in Italian. I was snapped out of my semi-incoherent musings by a familiar sultry voice, strong and feminine at the same time, almost hypnotic in quality. "Not celebrating with your famous friends, Sandro?" I knew that voice. As I swilled down my last bottle of vodka, I turned around to face the Purple Shamrock herself, clad in the same old black Lycra catsuit she wore on most of her missions. "I thought you rockers always hung out with your own kind."

"I'm not an ordinary rocker, Nina. I'm just a bloody heretic." I laughed at the self-referential irony. "Why the cheap sci-fi get-up?" I asked in a lighter tone of voice.

"I'm going on a mission – to take out my target… Kazuya Mishima." My eyes widened slightly.

"You mean… my promoter? The guy who got me the gig here…?" I asked as I shook my head in disbelief. "Talk about being an ungrateful bastard." I replied before calling her out in Italian. However, this did not prepare me for the worst turn of events – a turn that would ultimately seal my fate.

"You're coming with me, Sandro Peseta." I turned to face her with a look of utter shock and horror.

"WHAT!?" I asked as my voice rose by several octaves – my usual bass-baritone C going into a borderline _alto falsetto _G.

"You are coming with me. You said you would do anything for me, since we're friends." She replied semi-sarcastically.

"But to kill somebody…!? You're insane. The guy knows my weak spot! All he has to do is play the guitar solo from _Brighton Rock_ and I'll be playing along like the Man with the Curly Hair!" I replied in a squeaky tone. Before the Purple Shamrock could reply, I heard whooping noises followed by their owners – a pissed-looking Paul Phoenix and an even-more-pissed-looking Marshall Law, the two of them returning from the American equivalent to lager frenzy.

"Good show!" Paul called out to me as Law let out a high-pitched laugh before the inseparable pair waltzed off into the shadows. Nina coughed, and I turned to face her once more.

"Well?" She asked. I looked at what I was wearing – a rare 1st Edition _Red Dwarf_ T-shirt on top of a black turtleneck sweater and some grey trousers with sneakers. My eyes met hers, and despite my better judgement, I simply nodded wordlessly. "Good boy." She said before leaving. I sat at the bar for a moment, trying to think what the hell I had just committed myself to, removing my spectacles.

_You stupid… fucking… bastard, Sandro. You should have just said no, but looks like your friend Yakov was right: You'll do anything to please the birds, won't you?_ My mind admonished me, doing almost nothing for my virtually non-existent self-esteem. Without another word, I got up and left, swearing in French.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu, Tokyo, Japan – 23 October 1989**_

I found myself outside the grand edifice of the Mishima Zaibatsu on a bloody suicide mission. Why I agreed to do this, I will never, ever know, other than I had befriended a beautiful but deadly killer. Now wearing a black _Blake's 7_ T-shirt, which elegantly showcased the show's logo in full colour, I awaited the arrival of the Purple Shamrock as I, the White Rainbow, sighed in mild annoyance. _It's like going out on a date in Nazi Germany._ I thought to myself in another mental rant. I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned around – there she was, in a similar Lycra catsuit to before, but in purple with a nice yellow belt around the waist. "Come on. Let's go." With those words, I followed her silently, thinking of the after-show party I was missing because of this extreme form of sibling rivalry. Nina and I silently entered the facility and stealthily made our way through the ventilation shafts, eventually entering the building itself via a basement of sorts. Not even bothering to speak, I looked at her with a single raised eyebrow, as if asking her what the next course of action was. She indicated by moving her head towards a door, opening it quickly and quietly as she took out a guard with relative ease. Eventually reaching the CEO's office – in this case, the angular spiked demon Kazuya Mishima – Nina drew her sniper rifle – the H&K PSG1 – and aimed down the sights. She never moved a single muscle or nerve during her whole time on the rifle… but just as the deadly finger closed around the trigger, there was a silenced blow to the back of her head. She grunted wordlessly and fell to the floor, out cold. Having witnessed this, I could do nothing but sit back in confusion and mild panic, my monochromatic clothing helping me blend in with the scenery. Thinking quickly, I turned away and walked quickly and quietly, eventually breaking into a run, my presence remaining unnoticed by the guards surrounding the unconscious blonde assassin. _This isn't going to end well._ I thought as the mood shifted from light and humorous to dark and serious, almost frighteningly serious. Little did I know at the time that those thoughts would be 100% accurate and correct – so accurate and correct, that not even the best fortune-teller would have been able to predict my next action. Why? I'm unpredictable.

**Author's Note: This will be a multi-perspective story, with the OC being in 1st-Person and the other characters in 3rd-Person. Read and review, please. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 3 **

_**Unknown Location – 24 October 1989**_

It was not until sometime the following morning that Nina awoke… in a darkened cell of sorts. Scrambling to sit up in a rare moment of panic, the Irish blonde looked around her, observing her whereabouts. _Ow, my head…_ She thought to herself, putting her hand on the back of her head, feeling a light mark where her mystery assailant had struck her. _I don't see Sandro anywhere – looks like they don't know about him. He'd be wise to keep it that way._ She surmised further. _Damn my eyes, why can't I see properly?_ The Purple Shamrock asked herself as she rubbed her eyes back into focus – a metallic clanging noise was heard followed by the cell door opening, revealing a silhouetted figure of sorts. Without another word, the figure picked up the beautiful but deadly hitwoman, slinging her over its shoulder as if she were a doll. Despite her best efforts and protests, Nina could not free herself of her captor's grasp. _This guy's like a tank!_ She thought as worry began to seep into her subconscious, partly for her own survival more than her friend's safety. Before she could react, she was dropped onto a chair and her hands tied behind her back, the figure flipping a switch. Nina screamed violently as she felt a surge of electricity surge through her body… and it suddenly stopped, giving her a few seconds to catch her breath – and curse in Gaelic. It was at this point that the mysterious figure finally spoke up, its voice a deep, resonant bass reminiscent of a movie trailer announcer. "Who sent you?"

"Your mother. She told me to tell you she's disappointed in you." Nina spat back. She knew acquiescing would not save her, so the best thing was to push her torturer's buttons. This, however, earned her another zap session. She screamed and wailed as the volts raged into her body. Again, the electricity ceased, and the figure asked her again, this time with more emphasis.

"Who. Sent. You?" It asked firmly, punctuating each word, every single syllabic chord, with the coldness of a dying star.

"Your voice coach – he says you still need work." Once again, the volts raged into her body as she screamed in pain.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Hotel, Tokyo, Japan – 24 October 1989**_

Having spent most of the night in my hotel room on my typewriter, writing out the pages of my novel, I had fallen asleep in front of the machine, having finished a chapter of 5 pages in length. I felt the Sun awaken me as I gradually mumbled myself back to full alertness. _Bloody hell, my head._ I thought to myself… and a horrible flashback took place in my mind. _Oh. My. God._ I realised what was about to happen. _Post-concert after party… Check. Mourning at the bar… Check. Go on crazy suicide mission with Nina Wi… oh, smeg._ A deadly drop of panic pipetted into my mind and quickly spread its venom. I got up and straightened myself out, shaving off my stubble in the process. Opening the door to the suite, I was met by my concerned friends and bandmates – guitarist-vocalist Yakov Skulachev and drummer Hans von Braun. "Hi, guys." I said calmly.

"Where the hell have you been, San? We waited until midnight for you to show up." Yakov countered in a slightly acerbic tone of voice.

"I was out." I replied with uncompromising sincerity. Yakov rolled his eyes slightly.

"What, dressed like that?" He asked, indicating my _Queen_ T-shirt and grey trousers. I looked at my reflection in a mirror, forgetting I was still wearing my off-stage clothes.

"Yes… I was on a date." I lied pathetically. Yakov and I both knew that I was a shit liar.

"You were out with Nina Williams, weren't you, Sandro? You skipped an after party to go on a hit with a psycho bitch from a backstreet pro-IRA drinking pit." Yakov asked in his usual smug-cum-condescending manner.

"Yak, just because we're popular now doesn't mean we have to hang out with the A-Listers all the time." I retorted.

"Sandro, you NEVER hang out with the A-List folks, you're always off chasing a lady." Yakov replied, even more obsequiously than usual.

"That's enough, come on." Hans intervened, always the mediator between the two of us – the Unifier of the Yin-Yang. "Sandro, let's go – it's time to…" He noticed a look of worry on my face. "San?" He asked quizzically. "San, what's up?" Hans questioned further. I looked at him with an expression of determination and mild fear.

"She's in there… God knows what they're doing to her." I muttered half-audibly.

"You don't mean…?" Hans asked.

"Yes. I'm going after her." With those words, I slapped on a pair of tan Army boots and I strode out of the doorway, looking determined. Hans and Yakov looked at each other for a moment before sighing in disbelief.

_**Unknown Location – 24 October 1989**_

Nina found herself being thrown into the cell once more after the rigorous torture session had finally ended. She picked herself up from the cold hard stone floor and she sighed, weeping silently for a full minute before she could even comprehend what the hell was going on, let alone what was going to happen to her. There was a metallic clicking noise, followed by the cell's door swinging open with a loud clang. A tall figure clad in purple, complete with slicked back black hair, approached her as it entered the cell – Kazuya Mishima. He looked at his would-have-been killer with contempt, undisguised contempt. Nina locked eyes with her would-have-been target. "You… coward." She spat through gritted teeth.

"_I_ am the coward!? It is YOU who have tried to kill ME!" He yelled, his dark eyes glowing and sparkling with fury as he looked at her with glowering heat, so much so that one could swear that his clothes were smoking and smouldering from the intensity.

"Just do as you will… I don't fucking care anymore." Nina wailed. Kazuya looked at his prey for a moment before raising a solitary eyebrow in a Spock-like fashion.

"I have a better idea…" he looked at his guards. "…bring her to me – the subterranean laboratory." He ordered somewhat cryptically. With those words, the head of the Mishima Zaibatsu left, the air thick with tension.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu, Tokyo, Japan – 24 October 1989**_

Arriving at the site of the Mishima building once more, I noticed the Sun was beginning to set. _What!? I only woke up two hours ago!_ I thought to myself as I tried to think back to the night before. _How did Nina and I get into this edifice without being noticed? Got it._ The answer came to me in a flash of light and I approached a guard in a rather casual manner. "Excuse me…?" I asked.

"We're closed – go away, music maker. The boss is not here." The guard replied tersely.

"How rude!" I replied in mock shock. The guard raised his weapon, to which I decked him with a single punch, knocking him out cleanly. Taking his weapon – an FN FNC assault rifle – along with his side arm – a Browning High Power pistol – I shrugged at his unconscious corpse sadly. "Sorry. You'll thank me later, though." With my newly acquired weapons, I loaded the assault rifle and strode into the building, looking and feeling determined. Retracing my steps, I eventually found myself back at the CEO's office, but I was not going to make the same mistake my fair-haired friend made. Thinking quickly for a moment, I jumped into a ventilation shaft, sliding down into the constricted tunnels below. The ducts were just about wide enough for me to crouch and keep my assault rifle raised at the same time. _Beats going prone and crawling like a worm._ I thought as I remained hidden, keeping my presence unknown for the time being. As I descended further into the facility, I felt like I was entering the Depths of Hell itself. Suddenly, a cold wind began biting at my body. Looking out of a grate, I saw the source of the cold: A laboratory housing a column of flat glass capsules – tubes large enough to house a human being. _Is this what I think it is?_ I pondered for a moment before coming to the dreaded conclusion. _He's been playing Frankenstein! Which means… oh, no. No, not her!_ I suppressed a cough as I hid silently, half-hoping what I thought was going to happen would not happen. Panic taking over me for a moment, I exited the ventilation shaft, finding myself in a white corridor as I hid in a nearby storeroom, locking myself in.

_**Unknown Location – 24 October 1989**_

Nina grunted wordlessly as she was stripped down naked, the guards savouring this moment as they had captured and defeated the famous Irish assassin. She whimpered at their touch as their gloved hands felt her body, her golden blonde hair being taken down and spreading over her face, covering her crystal blue eyes for a moment, the Mishima troops' very presence making her feel dirty and unclean… like her sister, Anna. Frogmarched out of the cell and into a transparent elevator, she was led into the bowels of a subterranean facility, deep underground. The air was cold as she felt the frost bite at her flawless skin. In the heart of the laboratory, she was presented to Kazuya and Anna. Locking eyes with her sister, she glared at her evilly. _I knew you were behind this!_ She thought. After a moment's silence – long, cold, honest – Kazuya spoke up. "Miss Williams… you were caught trying to take my life. I have thought about a suitable punishment for some time, and I have come up with this: You will be placed into Cold Sleep – cryogenic stasis, if you will, for an indefinite period of time. Do not worry – your sister will join you soon." Nina's blood ran cold at the mention of this – she was going to be put into a deep sleep and she had no idea when – or if – she would awaken. She felt tears run down her soft cheeks, crying for the first time since the death of her dear father. "Or, if you prefer, then I can shoot you here and now." Kazuya added semi-sarcastically. Nina gave him a look of resignation. Kazuya nodded wordlessly as the guards dropped her into a human-sized tube – she was too weak to resist. "Sweet dreams." Kazuya quipped as the tube's door closed, sealing her inside. Nina heard a hissing sound followed by a whooshing noise – a thick translucent blue fluid began to fill the capsule, covering her feet as it began to rise towards her knees, her chest and ultimately her neck. The gas put her to sleep as the liquid submerged her completely… the last thing she felt was her body temperature drop as there was a flash of light and the liquid turned to solid ice, freezing her. She lay in the cryogenic tube, sleeping peacefully, protected by the ice and glass encasing her body.


	4. Chapter 4

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 4**

**_Unknown Location – 25 October 1989_**

Having chosen my fate, I slipped out of the storeroom quietly, evading any possible guards' paths. Reaching another ventilation shaft, I peered down into the black abyss before me, pausing for a while to allow my eyes to adjust to the reduced light. I looked around me as I sighed in both disbelief and frustration. _If I end up getting killed trying to rescue a crazy Blake's 7 reject, then I'll never forgive you, Nina._ I thought to myself as I slung my assault rifle over my shoulder, pistol ready in my left hand, my right hand shaking slightly. Without another thought, I slid into the angular shaft, the descent becoming steeper and increasingly vertical as I eventually hit the base of a connecting shaft, my knees impacting with a cold hard steel substructure. Wincing silently, I quickly regained my composure and focused on the mission at hand: To rescue Nina. _Blake would be proud of you, you know, Sandro._ I thought to myself as I mused about my fictional hero, trying to think the way he would think, act the way he would act. Hearing a conversation between two Mishima troops, I paused silently as I tried to remain calm and composed. "How can you expect people to spell your name right if you can't do it yourself, Fresson?" One of the troops asked his friend.

"We got her, Ekman. We're going to be promoted by the Boss and people will remember our names." The second soldier replied.

"Not bloody likely." The first man replied. "By the way… where's Ridzíc? He said he'd meet us for a lunch break."

"Lunch break, my ass – he's on guard duty." Putting 2 and 2 together that Ridzíc must have been the guard I knocked out (and took his weapons), I pursued into the base silently, starting to shiver as I could feel the extreme cold bite at my soft skin and small (for an adult male) hands. Reaching the cryogenic laboratory, I opened the grate and jumped down into the empty area, pistol fused to my hand as I looked around me, eventually spotting two frozen tubes. _Two test subjects?_ I thought… and then it hit me: Anna. _Two for the price of one. This must be your lucky day, Sandro._ I chuckled as I typed on a computer keyboard. _Japanese keyboards… why can't they use QWERTY like the rest of the bloody World?_ I surmised in mild frustration, randomly pushing various keys. Eventually, the monitor showed an image of Nina's sleeping frozen form, my eyebrows furrowing slightly as I pressed on, the screen shifting to show Anna's cryogenically preserved body. Hearing footsteps approach, I began to panic. _Shit!_ Thinking quickly, I hid behind a control panel as the doors to the facility slid open, a deep booming voice speaking quite loudly (for a chap with sensitive ears like me, anything above monotone speaking volume is loud).

"Doctor, are the test subjects coping well so far?" Kazuya's unique voice reverberated throughout the chamber as a second voice – a slightly harsh and raspy one marked by years of age and knowledge – that of Doctor Geppetto Boskonovitch – replied in a slightly jubilant tone.

"Yes, sir. You do understand that the experiments could continue into next century, possibly even later?" He asked with a twinge of worry.

"Yes, Doctor. Don't worry… I'll find a suitable replacement for you when the time comes." Kazuya responded with bravado and confidence. Their footsteps grew louder as I thought quickly, desperately looking for something to delay the inevitable. My eyeballs scanned the control panel, eventually locating a big red button – an emergency shutdown switch – and I put my hand over it, my open palm hovering above the dangerous push-button switch. As Boskonovitch entered my field of vision, I took a deep breath and jumped out of my hiding spot.

"Don't move!" I yelled, my eyes and face a fiery torrent of Magnesium. _You imbecile, Sandro – just like your hero, you never were very bright._ My pistol pointed at Boskonovitch's body, I could see Kazuya stare at me.

"This is how you repay your sponsor?" He asked with a slight hint of sarcasm.

"I'm not here to kill you, Kazuya… I'm here to rescue my friend – and then I'll leave." I replied in no uncertain terms.

"Oh, yes… I anticipated that. What if I refuse?" Kazuya enquired.

"Then Frankenstein here goes to court for murder and crimes against humanity." I half-threatened, half-promised, my free right hand hovering above the emergency shutdown button, while my dominant left hand kept the gun pointed at the Doctor's body.

"Go on, Mr Peseta – push the button. Kill them both." Kazuya taunted. Now faced with a choice – kill the piece of shit before me or kill the woman I have come to know and care about over the past two years – I took a third option.

"I'm a human being." With those words, I pistol-whipped Boskonovitch unconscious as I turned the pistol on Kazuya. At this moment in time, three guards, one of whom without weapons, entered the cryo-lab.

"Hey! That's the guy who took my guns… and knocked me out, too!" One of them replied. BANG! Shooting the poor sod in the kneecap, I literally banged his friends' heads together before making a run for it into the corridors as Kazuya called for his 'Tekken Force' troops. I took cover behind a column and switched over to my assault rifle.

_OK, San… you know this music – let's change the beat._ My mind quipped cockily as I flipped open a nearby electronic jukebox. _Oh, fuck yes – Rock and Roll's Royalty._ I smirked. Crouching to avoid the opening gunshots, I activated the jukebox and the music started, peeking my head out from cover to fire only intermittently, aiming VERY carefully as I did not want to waste any ammunition. Eventually, I realised that it did not matter – they were going to kill me anyway. _Fuck it… let's do this, Blake-style._ I thought as I jumped out from my hiding spot, shoot-dodging a Mishima soldier before quickly scrambling to my feet and retreating.

"Go after him! And turn off that music!" Kazuya ordered as I was pursued down the corridor by my new enemies, somersaulting behind a corner.

_Damn it, San, this isn't your style! You're a musician, a nerd, not an action hero!_ My mind screamed as I mentally derided myself for thinking I could be like the great Roj Blake. As the music ground to a dead stop, I opened fire once more, putting more holes in the bad guys than the spiked booby traps in _Prince of Persia_. I still couldn't get close to Nina and Anna, so I had to retreat even further – this proved to be a fatal mistake.

Reloading my assault rifle quickly, I scored some headshots with relative ease, something my recently cryogenically incarcerated friend never thought of doing. "Give yourself up, Peseta!" Kazuya ordered. "Make it easy on yourself, Sandro – give yourself up and I'll set Nina free." I knew he was bullshitting. I had seen it before. Scanning my environment, I could see a handful of Tekken Force troops sneaking on one side of me. I took some pot-shots, incapacitating rather than killing them.

"I've got nowhere else to go, Kazuya! You'll have to kill me, because I'm not leaving here without Nina!" I spat in a tone of mixed determination and despair. There was a long silence before I heard Kazuya give orders in Japanese. _This doesn't sound good._ I thought as I cursed in Italian. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by Mishima Zaibatsu soldiers – at least 30 of them – pointing their weapons at me. I felt a sense of peace and tranquillity that I had never experienced before in my life. Looking at the distant laboratory, I closed my eyes briefly as I mentally prepared myself for the imminent inevitable. "I'm sorry, Nina." I muttered before opening them and looking ahead, staring into the purple-clad Mishima Zaibatsu CEO before me, protected by his private army. _Let's do this._ I came to a personal executive decision as I slowly raised my weapon, calmly and ambiguously. Steadying it in my hand, I smiled an ironic smile, just like Avon after killing Blake. For what felt like a minute, time felt like it had stopped, frozen momentarily before resuming. BANG! I fired a single shot at an unspecified target. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! I felt a bullet tear into my forearm – still, however, I remained erect. BANG! My second shot grazed Kazuya's shoulder as he cursed in Japanese. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three bullets seared into my body – I felt my stomach explode and my lungs collapse as I keeled over to the floor, dropping my weapons. I could feel my knees buckle as the weight of my body began to collapse. I felt my soul escape my body as I died.

0.68 seconds before I expired, I knew this was it. I didn't think of my family, friends or those close to me. There wasn't time.

What I did think of, however, was a computer – my Atari 1040 ST FM computer, which had been my friend since I started doing live gigs.

Then I died.


End file.
